Do it again, but better
by huchbuch
Summary: A seven year old Harry is abandoned on the steps of young Tom Riddles' orphanage, Tom Riddles' territory, and Tom is determined to keep a close watch on this strange new arrival.
1. Chapter 1

**Do it again, but better.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter : (

Summary

A seven year old Harry is abandoned on the steps of young Tom Riddles' orphanage, Tom Riddles' territory, and Tom is determined to keep a close watch on this strange new arrival who has been thrust into his life.

Story

It was on January the 8th that he arrived. That he was abandoned rather. It happens. Usually it's through their parent's or guardian's death and when there is no other relative who will or is able to take them in. In some cases their parents are in prison, that's what happened to Matthew. For this one, Harry, he was abandoned at the age of seven. One moment he had gone to bed in his house, the next thing he knew he was on the orphanage's doorstep. His relative must have really hated him, that or he was completely delusional because, when the staff searched they couldn't even find a trace of this Aunt and Uncle he was crying about. It was certain he was abandoned though. The boy even admitted that his relatives threatened him with the orphanage many times before. That's how I got my new roommate.

I drove off the last one. He snored and left the room in a tip and stayed up too late. Now he had nightmares every night of ghosts and ghouls. It really didn't take much to make him think the room was haunted. Just shoving a few objects with my power and asking my local garden snake to rattle the windows a little. It was easy, so easy that it was a little disappointing. The first night with Harry as a roommate I almost decided to drive him out too, all night he lay there shivering and sobbing - pathetic.

I didn't have any sympathy for him. He must have been a right terror to make his own relatives abandon him. But he sobbed quietly and he had just the clothes on his back – rather huge ragged ones too – so he couldn't make much of a mess if he tried.

Most of us adapt quickly to orphanage life. The adults say that children adapt quickly to everything at our age. Harry however was an exception. Months after his arrival he still slipped up regularly and called the female staff 'Aunt Petunia'. In the orphanage we weren't allowed to have many lie ins, but Harry always shot awake at 6am as if he still heard the shrill voice of his relatives calling him. Thankfully he was quiet about it. Eerily quiet actually. He scared people to death when he seemed to silently appear out of nowhere at ridiculous times in the morning. Only a month in and he was labelled as a bit of a freak already.

One of his many problems was that he was to pandering. I hated them all and didn't care a whit what they thought unless they said it to my face. Then I'd teach them never to be so loose lipped again. Harry tried painfully hard to make friends. He was always careful never to outshine any of the other children at school. I, of course, was top of the class and took great pleasure in seeing the teacher's try to work out if I cheated. It infuriated them that their nice, normal little children from good backgrounds could never beat me. It was one of the little pleasures I had in my life there.

One reason I didn't drive out Harry like all the rest was because he never told anyone how hard I worked at school work. He never said a word about how I snuck the textbooks back with me and studied hard so I could see the teacher's looks of bafflement and anger. We didn't really talk, but that meant we didn't fight or hate each other, and sometimes, especially in a childhood like we had, having someone not make life hard for you made you just as grateful as having an actual ally would have.

I've mentioned that Harry was a panderer. He did everything he could to get the staff to like him, probably in some vain hope that they may learn to love him. Mrs Brown learned long ago not to get attached to us children here. I could see it in her cold steel gaze. Harry though, never knew when to give up. In the orphanage we have loads of chores to do. We are split into groups and every week some are assigned to do the washing up, some to clean the communal areas some to wash the clothes. You get the idea. Harry though, went above and beyond, and was always trying to make himself useful. It would have worked well if he didn't cause so much trouble, which more than balanced out his extra helpfulness. He came back from school with bruises and cuts regularly. He was disliked by the other children, but even I don't know how he manages to get beaten up so much, most of our other classmates just avoided him rather than actually physically hurting him, but he never seemed to be without at least some mystery bruises. He also got in trouble for playing with fire. I'm called the top troublemaker in this orphanage, yet even I was interested in this one. One morning he just collapsed, crying out in pain. His arm was bright red with nasty warts just appearing on it, as if it was being burned by thin air.

I can make nasty things happen to people by willing it. Well, it seemed to me like Harry had his own personal person like me targeting him, hurting him in strange, unnatural ways. It happened in our room. He knew the rumours, that I could do strange things, that I had the devil's power. It would make sense for him to blame me. I almost thought that it was me who was doing it, but he didn't. Clutching his arm he looked into my eyes and said "No. Tom, this isn't you. Don't worry". That's when I ran to get Mrs Brown. The consequences? He was lectured for messing around with fire and put on extra cleaning duties for a week. Really, Adults, they are clueless. But then something even more exciting happened. It happened right in front of my eyes. Harry was hurt, getting shouted at, glaring at her. Then Mrs Brown's pride and joy, her chestnut brown hair, was white - like all the colour just drained out of it. So not only was someone hurting Harry, but Harry, like me, has the ability to hurt other with his will. Ok, so maybe changing someone's hair colour didn't count as hurting, but I could give him instructions on the better, more dramatic ways people like us could get revenge. I am Tom Riddle after all, and revenge is what I do.  
>_<p>

I have ideas on how this story may continue, so may add to it later.  
>Please review!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

I was having a particularly bad Monday. Sally had told her parents, who had then gone on to tell whoever would listen, which, unfortunately for me included the school that I was bullying her. Really, bullying is such a childish word, I prefer the term torment, and she did deserve it really. She had started bringing up that old story about my mother which I thought I quenched years ago when Henry happened to be so unfortunate as to fall and break his leg in several places. Good times.

Mr Daniel took Sally's accusations quite seriously. They are always looking for a chance to attack me the pompous fools. I had to sit through a rather loud rant and made to miss break times. They are not very inventive with punishments these adults. When I have the power they will see what punishment really is. But as much as I willed Mr Daniel's tongue to drop out and for Mrs Brown's face to be stuck in that nasty expression, all glares and frowns and very large forehead wrinkles, my power didn't work. I need to experiment more with it.

As I walked through the corridors afterwards I could see all my classmates staring and whispering. Saying how I killed my mother. How I was born in death. It was all rather poetic and added to my reputation, so I wouldn't have minded it if it wasn't for the fact that my mother, my family was NONE OF THEIR BUISSINESS!

Ok, so maybe I was a little on edge, and I wished for the thousandth time that my dad would show up. You see, everyone in the orphanage dreams or a relative coming for them, of their family coming and taking them back into a warm loving home. Those dreams are all impossible of course, we have been abandoned here. Most of our families are dead, but I know my dad isn't. I just know it. He will have the same power as I do, he will find me and teach me to finally give all the people who have degraded me and never seen my potential what they deserve. They will never find my punishments predictable or boring, I can tell you that for sure.

Oh no, here he comes, Will Page. He would never dare taunt me normally, not after I set fire to his favourite coat the last time he tried to trip me up and steal one of the biscuits we were each given after one assembly last year. It was a fond memory, seeing him tear the burning fabric off him in terror, knowing as well as I that I was responsible, but having no proof and having to see me walk away scot-free. My power is unpredictable like that, sometimes it works in the most entertaining of ways, but other times, even when I'm really concentrating on it, it eludes me .

This time he was safe. I had been given a big scolding so everyone was against me, and we were in the middle of the hall way, with at least two teachers close by in case I tried anything.

"So you're finally getting what you deserve for once," Will sneered. "It's obvious that you're bullying trash, I heard that your mum couldn't stand you so much that she died rather than having to live and put up with you." He laughed and around me all the other children joined in. It was a horrid, mocking, grating laugh. I think laughter is the most horrid sound in the world sometimes.

I am not a large boy. I am not built for sports. I am neither fast nor strong, so if I thought about it I would have gritted my teeth, kept my head bowed and walked on; keeping my pride nursed by imagining all the ways I would kill that little rotter over the rest of the day. Unfortunately I wasn't thinking, which is why when I returned to my room that evening I had a black eye and could hardly move without wincing in pain while Will in exchange just had a few scratches, a nasty bite mark on his arm, and a good story to tell and gloat about. There was no doubt in anyone's mind who won the fight.

If only that was the end of my nightmare of a Monday, but with the sight of my black eye a constant reminder to people, I had to deal with muttered sniggers and smirks all around the orphanage. I am hated here, they were all glad that someone had gotten one up on me. I would show them once I got my power working better.

Even in my room I had no privacy to stew in my hatred without those mocking or, just as bad though much more rare, pitying looks. Harry was there.

We just sat on each of our beds for the majority of the evening each reading a book. Neither of us were popular with the others, so didn't often go downstairs to play with them. I could tell he had something to say though; he kept glancing up at me from his book and shifting around.

Eventually I just asked him to tell me what he had to say with a, I thought quite restrained for the day I was having, bark of "Stop your shuffling around and spit whatever you have to say out already you idiot!"

At that he looked me in the eye, said that he'd heard what happened to my mother and commented that "She must really have loved you".

Well, that wasn't what I'd been expecting, though I don't know why not. It was typical Harry.

"Even though she was so ill she still held on long enough to give you life, and a name" he said, eyes now back down on his book. "I'm sure she loved you very much".

I wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so, after a pause, I went with my usual response – insulting someone.

"Well, whatever she thought, those morons have no right to comment on it. They are just jealous that I wasn't abandoned like them, and that I still have my Dad out there looking for me while the rest of those losers are stuck here." Alright, so it wasn't the most tactful thing to say to someone who had himself been abandoned by his family, but it was true. While they were hoping in vain I still had a chance to get out of here in the form of my father.

Rather than take offense though, Harry seemed fascinated by the thought. "So your Dad is still alive?" He questioned with genuine interest.

"Yes" I replied with confidence. Though I don't actually know for sure, I am pretty certain he is out there. "And I know his name too" I said with pride. Unlike the others rotting away in here I had a clue of how to find my father "He is called Tom Riddle – I was named after him."

"So what about you?" I asked graciously, "Do you know where your parents are?" I already knew they were probably dead, why else would he be passed off onto his Aunt and Uncle, but he confirmed it for me.

"They died in a car accident when I was one" he said matter-of-factly. Other people may have thought it strange to talk about something so personal as a relative's death in such a cold everyday sort of way, but I understood it. He, like me, never knew his parents, so why would he be upset about it.

"The Dursley's took me in after that but they won't be coming back. Even if they could come back I'm not sure I'd want them too", he said deep in thought, "I'm not sure where I prefer, their house or here."

"I don't believe you prefer here to your relatives" I replied sceptically.

At that he just smiled in a none-committal way, and moved on with a, "I do have dreams that someone will come to take me away still though. But you're right with how unlikely that is, maybe when your Dad comes, you can come back and take me with you?" He asked hopefully.

I laughed in response. "Anyone who gets out of here is never going to come back. Not for anything or anyone" I said. Harsh, yes, but true.

Harry didn't seem too put out by my frank reply. He was probably used to all his hopes coming to naught by now. I was. But still, that night I dreamt of a woman with a loving smile, and a kind, strong man, coming and whisking me off into a new life. It was a very hopeful dream to end such a horrid Monday.


	3. Chapter 3

It's a brand new year today. I turn nine this year, and I'm going to make it a good one. The past year has been average. I am still feared throughout the orphanage (Harry calls it hated and says I shouldn't be proud of that, but what does he know), and I am still top of my class at school, much to all the teacher's displeasure.

I put Will Page back in his place with a subtly placed rumour about his own parentage and now the pathetic crush he had on Lillian has no chance, so my payback is complete. As satisfying as that was, it wasn't my ideal revenge. I first plotted a brilliant plan which involved framing him as a thief. You see, I happened to come by a necklace that Mrs Thatch, the headmistress, was very fond of a while back. I decided to place it in a conveniently incriminating place in his school bag, hopefully he would be expelled, it was, after all, a very valuable piece of jewellery. An heirloom or so I overheard when I … found it. I would have been fine with him being suspended and publically disgraced too, but it was Harry who ruined that plan.

I had such high hopes for him this past year. It has become obvious through the few strange, inexplicable things that have happened around him that I was right about him having the same kind of power as me. I was thrilled when I discovered it, but it seems our power is one of the only things we have in common. Harry, you see, is a total wimp.

I let him into my plans to ruin Will and he messed them up, claiming that it 'wasn't nice'. Really! 'wasn't nice'? That's the whole point of the exercise of revenge!

I even decided to help him with his powers. I have learnt that if I really focus, if I concentrate hard and bring up all the hate and anger I have, if I focus that hate into power I can make objects move without touching them. I even managed to make a book float one time – it was just for a second, but still.

I decided I would share it with Harry, but I learnt quickly that Harry is either terrible at concentrating or terrible at hating, because he was absolutely useless. He couldn't make anything move at all, not even an inch.

One thing he did have an affinity for though, was snakes. I introduced him to Nagini. She is a little garden snake who lives by our orphanage. I can talk to her and make her do things for me and she can talk back. Not that she has anything interesting to say, it's all about food and sleep with her, but it is the principle of the matter. I can communicate with snakes. I can do that when none of the other dull, ordinary people in the orphanage can. I am special. Powerful.

I was almost ready to give up on my thoughts that Harry was like me after his complete failure at moving objects, but after I found he could talk to Nagini, I was proved right about him after all.

After Harry messed up my plans for revenge I ditched him as a student. If he wasn't going to obey me what use did I have for him. Unfortunately our room arrangements haven't changed so it's not like I can avoid him, but we've slotted back into our previous relationship of no hostility and only sparse communication when necessary.

Harry sometimes tries to talk to me more; I think he wants us to be friends. What an absurd idea. He told me he will keep practicing using his power. I don't have high hopes for him.

Harry is a very strange boy, and that's coming from me. I overheard that the staff here at the orphanage thinks he is hurting himself. He does have a strange habit of occasionally running off at odd times of the day, and returning with bruises or cuts. They think it's so he can get attention, but he always tries to keep it hidden when he is hurt, so that theory is completely absurd. I hope stupidity isn't something that people grow into, but looking at all the adults around me I can well believe it is.

It's probably good that I've stopped associating with Harry. I don't want to get caught up in all his silly little problems. Not with all the ambitious resolutions I have made for this year.

This year I am going to practice moving objects with my power so much that I will be able to do it anytime and anywhere, not just when I'm in my room and spend ten minutes beforehand really focussing. I am also going to try to recreate the effect of levitating that book. I will master this power. That is my aim, my goal, my purpose. After all, what use is a life if it's a life without power?

So something is up with Harry and Tom is totally power obsessed.  
>Next Ch. there will be more discovery about magic.<br>Look forward and please review! 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry and I had a truce since he interfered with my revenge efforts with his delicate sensibilities. We had an unspoken agreement to keep out of each other's way.

Harry was the one who broke that agreement for the most fascinating reason. While he still couldn't make objects move with his power, he had been practicing using it, and had discovered how to create light.

Of course I asked him to show me immediately, and he was only too willing to do so. He always seems awkward when we talk about this power we have. He has slipped up in the past and referred to it as 'unnatural' or even 'freakish'. I think he feels guilty when he purposely tries to use it, some leftover reaction from his relatives that he really should have grown out of by now. But I know too well the excitement that the feel of this power gives. It feels so right, like it is something we were always meant to have it. If anything it feels more natural when you use it than when you don't.

I can see that Harry feels the same way. I see the gleam in his eyes, the lightness in his step as we rush up to our room to experiment with it. We have something in common that even our different moral code can't divide. This power is above all morals, above each of us as individuals. This power is all that matters.

He says it works best in absolute darkness, so together we rush about, drawing the curtains, stuffing our pillows against the gap in the door so that even that slither of light is cut off.

That's when he begins to explain it to me. How he makes this application of our power work.

"It's good like this" he says "pitch black, so you can't even see your hand in front of your face."

"Then, you have to concentrate" he goes on "shut your eyes and in the pitch black think about light. You have to imagine it. The light of the sun, how it warms your skin when you are under it, how it makes all the colours around you so much more vibrant and bright. Focus on it. Picture it. Long for it."

I was with him till then, but I'm not really the 'longing' kind of person. He spoke about light as if it were a great treasure. I've never seen something so simple as sunlight in the kind of way he was talking. He spoke as if he was often locked up and deprived of the sun. As if it were a great friend that he was yearning to see after years apart. I found it a little strange so decided to stop trying to follow his instructions and just observe to see if this nonsense of his really worked.

I opened my eyes and saw him sitting across the room on his bed. He was curled up with his chin resting on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him as if he was praying. His eyes were scrunched tight shut and – wait. The thick, heavy curtains on the windows are shut tight. We even sealed the gap of light coming through the door. It was so dark I could barely see the outline of my hands in front of my face. I checked and I still could barely see my hand.

Harry was glowing. Ok, so maybe glowing is too strong of a word. His whole body was emitting light, but it was such faint light that you could hardly tell. If the room wasn't so dark I wouldn't even have noticed.

Then he moved on to the next step of creating this light he was talking about.

"Once you have concentrated, and really got it into your head. Then you have to focus on the light coming to your hands" he explained.

"You imagine the light falling almost, and being caught between your palms."

Even as he was saying it I could see the light drain from his body and pour into his hands, till all I could see was a warm, pale orange light glow out from shining through his fingers. Then he opened his hands up as he opened his eyes, and in his hands was a small orb of white light. It wasn't that bright. Barely enough light to read by really, but it was impossible. It's impossible for someone to create light with their will alone. This was most certainly the result of Harry using his power. It was spectacular.

We grinned at each other in the tiny steady light Harry's power created. Anyone who saw us would have thought we had found a treasure chest full of gold. This was much better than gold.

Unfortunately my enthusiasm soon faded. I just couldn't get the hang of it, and if there is anything I hate more than idiots who don't understand how to do even the simplest of tasks, it's me not understanding how to do something. It is infuriating.

Harry was very patient. Though it pains me to admit it, he is a good teacher, and even though I knew I still didn't grasp it, with his instructions every now and then I could produce a little flicker of light. It didn't take long though, for me to snap. Even the most patient and long suffering person won't stay around and help when you fling a dictionary at them I found, so since then I practiced mostly alone.

Harry still checked up on my progress, and he soothed my pricked ego by mentioning how hard he was finding my trick of moving objects every time he saw that the progress I made on making light was next to nothing.

It took me three months. Three whole months before I had a break through.

I should have figured it out earlier. It's always so obvious when you know how. It was a Friday night. I couldn't get to sleep so was practicing with my power instead, but I was getting nowhere again. I was just getting so frustrated. Lack of sleep makes me moodier at the best of times, but added to my lack of progress with my power and stupid Mrs Brown, so proud of stupid little Olivia when her stupidly perfect grandparents came to take her stupid little whiny self away!

Anyway, I was focussed on all that mess in my life and trying to create light at the same time when it happened. And by it, I mean a big explosion sound and a fireball – a proper football sized fireball held aloft between my hands!

Harry woke up straight away of course. He has always been a light sleeper and this sound was big enough to wake almost anyone.

He looked up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, saw me with my FREAKING HUGE FIREBALL and laughed and grinned and gave a proper victory leap as he rushed out of bed to get a closer look. Sometimes, I decided, it was good to have Harry around. Having him to discuss how amazing this was and to get excited with just prolonged the great rush of pleasure and accomplishment that came from it.

That's when we heard the loud stomping of a Mrs Brown who had been woken from her 'beauty' sleep. My fire was out in a second and we rushed back into our beds and under the covers, hoping desperately that our drumming heartbeats and fast breathing wouldn't give us away.

The door creaked open slowly, the slit of light getting slowly greater as Mrs Brown's grey, tattered slippers crept into my view. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to quench the sound of my heavy breathing. Finally, she was satisfied. The door was shut again and we got away with it. I heard an audible sigh of relief coming from Harry, and had to stem the urge to burst out laughing with relief myself.

In that moment, I kind of got why people wanted friends. I always thought that they were just a contingency plan, so if you have a hard time and you are too weak to cope with it on your own you could hope that they would help. It never seemed worth it to me because I was strong enough to cope with the hard times on my own, so would have to be socially obliged as a 'friend' to help them out while gaining very little benefit from them in return.

This was different though. Having someone to share good times with, having someone by your side to revel in your accomplishments. I have to say, it felt good.

(Plus, I made a huge fireball and Harry only made a little marble sized orb – I totally beat him!)

* * *

><p>Coming up next: Tom finds out part of what is happening to Harry.<br>Reviews are wonderful so please leave a message if you can - and look forward to the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

It was when Harry was having a particularly skittish day that I confronted him. He seemed to have had a particularly bad dream the night before as he was paler than usual that morning. He had called Mrs Brown 'Aunt Petunia' again, though it had been years since he was abandoned by that woman and all throughout school he was tense, like someone who has a dentist appointment later in the day, or who knows that something bad will happen and try as they might can't get their mind off it.

As he was acting even stranger than usual I decided to see what was up with him. At lunch time I went to talk to him, but he was nowhere to be found. I, though, am not some fool who is easily put off the hunt. With a bit of investigating, (or threatening as Harry calls it), I found that he was seen heading to the nurse's office. You wouldn't believe what I caught him up to. He was stealing.

Nice little 'don't be mean Tom', 'stop it Tom, that's bullying', goody-two-shoes Harry was pinching some bandages and medicinal cream. I knew he wasn't as perfect as he made out to be!

I would have confronted him there and then, but he was saved by the bell signifying lessons starting again. I headed back to the classroom with one final glance of him showing his spoils into his schoolbag.

When school ended he headed back to the orphanage like the rest of us as normal. He did his chores that afternoon, just like always. It was his turn to empty the bins in the communal areas while my group had the duty of cleaning the hallway. It had been years since I actually did any of the chores. My 'team' had long since been too scared of me to tell any of the staff that I left all the work to them. It was just after dinner that he disappeared.

Harry doesn't have many talents, but one thing he is good at is sneaking around silently and, well, just generally acting like he doesn't exist. I asked him about that years ago and he just laughed and said "I've had lots of practice". Those relative of his have really messed him up. I don't know much about his life with them, he keeps it all very private, but what hints I do get about them has made me hate them already.

It took me a while, but I found him. He was in the garden shed at the back of the orphanage. No one comes here as all that is left in it is a horde of spiders and some old, broken tools, but Harry had never been afraid of spiders and the dark, that was one of the reasons I thought to look for him here. He was huddled in a corner against the wall facing away from the door. From the angle I was at when I first saw him all I could see was his hands, shaking, yet fiddling with some cloth. He heard me come in and turned, and I saw the cloth he had in his hands was red with blood, blood which came from his leg.

"Go away", he muttered. His eyes, I noticed were rimmed red from tears, he was shivering and his hands were scraped and raw.

As I watched I saw another large cut appear on the side of his leg, as if an invisible monster was sat right in front of him, tearing at him.

"What the – what is that? What is attacking you!" I asked shocked, backing away from him in case it would come for me.

He smiled a pained smile at my reaction and replied "It's just a dog".

Well, unless I missed the announcement of the discovery of an invisible dog he was lying. But Harry was a terrible liar. He never looked you in the eye when he wasn't telling you the truth and he generally tried to deflect the question rather than telling a blatant lie.

I know that we have power. I know that strange things happen around u that isn't 'normal'. So I concluded this must be something to do with Harry's power.

I remembered back when I saw something else like this, when Harry's arm was burned. I thought then that maybe someone was doing it to him, but after seeing that he himself had power I rather forgot about that strange occurrence. It seemed it hadn't stopped happening to Harry.

If the roles were reversed in this situation I know that Harry would be at my side right now, bandaging the cuts and rubbing salve on them, but I am not Harry. His welfare wasn't my biggest concern. My concern was getting answers.

"You knew this was going to happen, didn't you," I demanded. "That's why you took the medicine at school today".

He sat there, wrapping the bandage round his leg with care, but he did answer me eventually with a simple "Yes, I knew."

"Who did this to you?" I questioned urgently "and don't say 'a dog' again. This is not a dog."

He sighed and started applying the salve to his hands as he told me about his day. A very different day to the one I saw him living.

"This afternoon Aunt Marge arrived. She is Uncle Vernon's sister, she loves the Dursley's and always brings Dudley the latest toys and gadgets to play with, and she often brings her dogs along. This visit, she brought Ripper, he's one of her favourite dogs" Harry explained, "A bulldog. Aunt Marge hates me even more than the rest of them. I was woken up early today and prepared her room, then I cooked breakfast for my cousin and Uncle, grabbed a slice of bread for myself and went to school. It was a standard morning, but Aunt Marge arrived at lunch, so was here when school ended."

Here he paused, examining my expression of total confusion. I thought he was going to tell me what kind of strange joke he was playing, but instead he just went on with his ridiculous story.

"She is horrid, Aunt Marge. She always goes on about how Uncle Vernon should have put me in an orphanage years ago, and how they should beat some manners into me. She tried to hit me with the garden spade before dinner when she was yelling at me to dig up some of the weeds – luckily I was too fast for her. I'm used to dodging the spatula when Aunt -, that's not important." He said suddenly, cutting himself off.

"Anyway, Aunt Marge wasn't too happy about that, and she ordered me to do the gardening while the family had dinner. You should have heard how she went on, as if it was my presence that made the weeds grow!" Harry grumbled.

"After eating, she came out and 'inspected' the garden. Apparently I didn't do a good enough job. She told Ripper, that nasty bulldog, 'Go teach the little freak a lesson', and as it turns out, that translates to 'attack' in dog language. I managed to climb up the pear tree in the garden," He said, examining the scratches that were appearing on his hands, "but not till Ripper gave my leg a good few scratches." He finished.

"So there," Harry said, as if all were explained, "It was a dog that attacked me."

Yes. That's right. Harry was insane. I told him so to his face right there and then. He didn't seem to appreciate my input.

"It's true." He said simply, "I lived through that day, and then, when I woke up it was the same morning in April, and I was in our room, went to school with you, and, after dinner, the exact time it happened the first time I lived through it, my leg got ripped up, just like how it did before."

"...and this happens often?" I questioned skeptically.

"Every day," He said. "I dream, or imagine, or live somehow a day where things are different. Where I am still with the Dursleys and have no memory of the orphanage. Then, I live a day here, with you where I remember what happened with the Dursleys. Every day, two lives."

OK. Well something seriously wrong was happening with Harry, I knew that for sure. It was worse than what I thought though. Why couldn't it just be that he was self-harming or that his power was backfiring against him? That I could have dealt with.

So Harry was just having strange dreams, like recurring dreams but stranger? He was dreaming that he was still living with his Uncle and family, when he got abandoned by them years ago, maybe his mind couldn't deal with their rejection and broke?

So he is just delusional? But that doesn't explain why the injury's he has in his dreams he gets in real life.

Could this be someone's doing? Someone with power like ours who is torturing Harry with memories of a life where he wasn't abandoned? This situation reeked of some strange, strong, power.

"Harry," I asked after some thought, "Is there someone you know who has power like us who would want to hurt you?"

At that he smiled - the crazy little weirdo. "So you believe me," he said.

"I still think you're insane" I protested, "but something strange is definitely happening too," I answered.

"My relative's hate anything strange and unnatural, they hate me, but I don't think they hate me enough to use something 'freakish' against me," Harry replied immediately. He had obviously thought through that explanation already.

But they abandoned him, without warning or ceremony, just dropped off without a thought after years of putting up with him. Maybe something happened to him he wasn't aware of, something which made him even more 'freakish' in his relative's eyes. Maybe someone who had power came and, and cursed him or something.

Fascinating!

Harry didn't appreciate my cold, technical fascination with his circumstances, but it certainly helped him that he now had me he could use to give an alibi when he knew he was going to get an injury from his delusions.

At that I helped him bandage himself up and get him back to our room, all the time thinking 'So this power we have could even be used to do something as complex as this!'

'Fascinating!'

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><p>Coming up next is the annual orphanage trip to the beach, where a certain cave you all may recognise may feature.<p>

Please review - it gives me lots of encouragement!


	6. Chapter 6

The field trip was mandatory; otherwise I would never have gone. It was always a miserable day out. We went to the same place every year, a part of the coast where the beach was rocky and no good for making sand castles and the chips we ate for dinner were always soggy and lukewarm.

It was grim at the best of times, but today I really wasn't in an outdoorsy mood. It's because of Nagini, she's been missing for over a week. "Probably eaten," was Billy's tactful comment when he overheard me mentioning my worries to Harry. He seemed amused at my concern about Nagini's welfare; as if he wouldn't be distraught if something happened to that ugly ball of fluff he calls a rabbit.

On top of dealing with worry about Nagini and a forced field trip there is a test of courage that we all have to do. It's not mandatory in the same way as the field trip, where you get dragged there by the adults whether you like it or not, in fact the adults don't even know it happens. It's mandatory in the way that if you fail to at least attempt it you are labelled in the orphanage as a coward and weakling for the whole of the next year. Sometimes peer pressure can make things just as unavoidable as an adult's force.

I would like to say I am not bound by these social pressures, but here I am, with Harry, scrambling over huge, slippery rocks to get to the cave first. If I can't avoid this stupid orphanage test of courage I can at least beat everyone else who attempts it and set a nasty trap for them at the end.

It's what I call making the most of a bad situation.

We got to the cave first, of course, and I even managed to get Harry to agree to help me torture the poor fools who will get here second. It was easy, I just played up my misery to make him sympathetic to me; mention how upset I was about Nagini, how cold and miserable I was and how much I hate this stupid tradition. Next I downplayed my plan of making the runners up in this test of courage suffer by calling it 'just a little prank' and voila! Harry was on board. He can be so adorably gullible at times.

The plan was to wait for the next group of people to get in the cave, and, when they were settled and had let their guard down, for Harry to make a bunch of loud noises while I shot fireballs towards them. "But not actually near enough to hit them," I lied, when Harry gave me a worried glance. I could do with something to cheer me up, and where's the fun in it if they don't get a little scorched?

It turns out the runners up in this little test of courage were the unfortunate Amy and Dennis. They scrambled into the cave all giggles and triumph, they assumed they had got here first. I smirked at their naivety, how foolish of them to think they could beat me.

Soon though, my smirk changed to a furious scowl as I heard my name crop up among their conversation of giggles and bragging.

"Creepy little Tom" they said, "Thinks he's so special and smart when there are thousands of Toms about" they giggled, "remember when Mr Jones was complementing a Tom and Riddle thought he was referring to him… The only creature that can stand being around him is that disgusting little snake… I heard that he even named it and talks to it" more giggles, more scoffs, "What a freak, just like that pathetic Potter boy he shares a room with".

That's when Harry stood up and came out of the shadows of our hiding place.

"Shut up!" He yelled "What do you know!" He shouted. His fists were clenched so tight they turned white and, I'm not sure if it happened or just felt like it did, but I could have sworn that the wind picked up and the seas roared a little louder.

The thing with Harry is, he isn't that intimidating. I am tall for my age and have a glare which I have honed to perfection over many years of use. I can do intimidation. Harry is small. When he came to the orphanage he looked startlingly undernourished and years younger than he actually was, and he has never really grown out of that weak, frail, starved look. He also has these big, ugly round spectacles which have a habit of falling off his nose and is often covered in bruises from his 'other life' which serve as proof for the other children of how easy a target he is. It wasn't much of a surprise for me then, when Dennis responded to Harry's anger by shoving him to the ground and laughing in his face.

As Harry fell to the ground the violent wind cut off. It was unbelievable. Harry, who had the power to summon the wind with his fury, was getting beaten down by this weak, ordinary, pathetic boy. I almost thought Harry deserved to be pushed around a bit for being such a weakling and holding back his power, but my opinions changed when I heard what Harry said next.

"Don't you dare talk about Tom like that!" Harry said furiously as Amy and Dennis leered down at him.

Harry was getting angry for me. That realisation conjured up a strange feeling in me I couldn't quite identify; it was kind of warm, yet felt a little uncomfortable at the same time.

"Urg, you're disgusting," Amy spat, looking down her prim pointed nose at Harry "You should just go die like that gross snake of Riddle's"

Maybe it was the mention of that Death, that cold abyss that has always secretly terrified me that fuelled my anger. Maybe it was Amy's voicing my fear that Nagini was dead that made my eyes narrow and made my ears pound with rage. Maybe it was the notion of Harry, the only person in this world who would ever stick up for me, dying that brought the store of hatred I always keep stowed away inside me up to the forefront of my mind. Maybe I was just pissed off because I was having a bad day. Either way, when I stepped out of the shadows towards them I was in a murderous state of mind, and they could tell.

They cowered away from me, and then their cowering turned to twitching, and the twitching to screaming. I made them HURT.

"Stop!" Harry said urgently, standing directly between me and my victims. I didn't even realise he had got up I was so consumed by the pain I was causing.

Even Harry's slight interruption, his one simple word, was enough to make my concentration wane and make the power that I had only just managed to stir up slip out of my grasp.

Amy and Dennis ran for it while they had the chance, using Harry's compassion as a distraction for them to slink away.

Then it started to sink in what I had done, the power I had just displayed, and a slow, dark smile crept onto my face.

"Stop." Harry repeated. And I knew that this rebuke was referring to my smile, which switched to a frown at his order.

"I did it for you," I said indignantly, "to help you."

"No," Harry countered immediately "You did it for yourself".

At that he headed out of the cave, leaving me behind. We all met back up as a group later that afternoon to get the soggy chips that were tradition. Though I have always eaten them alone, they seem even less appetising today. I picked a chip up with the little wooden fork I was given and it sat their sagging limply in the fading light of the evening. Amy and Dennis are as far away as possible from me, shivering violently, still not recovered though it has been hours since I hurt them. I should feel proud at the power I displayed. I am proud, I tell myself, what I did today was spectacular.

I pop the salty chip into my mouth and chew. It should have been a treat, warmed me up and left me smiling. Instead it's unsatisfying and leaves a slightly unpleasant taste in my mouth; a metaphor of my day really.

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><p>I had such trouble with this chapter! I just couldn't seem to get it right and I've rewritten it a bunch of times. I'm still not completely happy with it, but if I don't move on I will get stuck on it for good.<p>

Please give me your feedback, I love it when I get reviews, it really is a big encouragement.  
>Next chapter will probably just be a short one about Harry and Tom finishing school, but I quite like it. Then the one after that should have Dumbledore making his grand entrance into their lives. Look forward to it!<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

We always have an end of year assembly where the whole school turns out to celebrate the accomplishments of the students who are graduating. I've had to sit through this same assembly year after year watching spoilt little brats get 'best behaviour' awards and snotty little know-it-alls get 'Mathematician of the year'.

This year though, things would be different. This year I would be the star of the ceremony. I was the obvious choice for the majority of the awards. Best Mathematician, Speller, Historian, ect. were all me. I was top of every class.

All the best behaved students had had some mishap this year. Jane was late for school a lot. Really, that bike of hers is so easy to tamper with. Sam didn't hand in his homework, he insisted that a snake snatched it from him, and who would believe that story? I was the only student that didn't have a single black mark on the record this year.

In fact, for every award they were giving out I was the best candidate. Except for the 'Most improved student' and 'Best effort' awards of course, which were given out to the idiots who had no chance to win in any other category. I walked into that assembly brewing with confidence. I walked out furious.

Not one award. Not one. Not even a mention of my name. How I hate them all.

Harry was the one to catch up with me on the walk back to the orphanage. Of course he was. No one else cared; in fact, by looking at the smirking faces of the rest of our classmates they all think my plight is hilarious.

Will came to a stop with his fancy certificate in his hand and was about to yell something hurtful and no doubt ridiculously stupid at me when he slipped, though there was nothing to slip on, what a shame.

Harry caught up to me then. Harry didn't get any awards either of course. He wasn't anything special academically. In fact, he seemed to try to be mediocre. I tried to be the best. I was the best, and this is how my efforts were repaid!

"It's not fair." Harry said as he caught up to me, glaring across the street where Will was picking himself off the ground. 'What an understatement', my thoughts replied.

"They didn't judge on merit, but on popularity." He went on. That was obvious. How else would Anna have gotten the award for best Mathematician other than for being the teacher's niece?

"It's not fair and it's not right, but you don't need their awards" he said with strength in his voice, looking straight at me, his startling green eyes narrowed with righteous anger. "You don't need some stupid bit of paper saying well done. You came first in those tests. You beat the rest of us fair and square and we all know it. The teacher's all know it. If those stupid awards are just for show then who wants them anyway!" he said fiercely.

I knew that all of course, he didn't have to tell me. Still, it made me feel a little better having someone else put it into words. I made a promise to myself their and then. The next school I went to I would change tactics. I would become the most popular person. I would be charming and funny and well liked. I would surround myself with a group of lackeys I would call 'friends'. I would still come first in class but I would help the losers of the classes out to gain favour with the teachers. At the next school I go to, when I graduate, I will get all of those stupid, silly, pointless awards for sure.

Perhaps that is not what Harry had in mind with his little speech, but since when did I ever listen to him.

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><p>Hope you enjoyed the chapter even though it was a little short - please review!<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Tonight my life has changed. I have been given a name for my power, for myself. I am a wizard. Unfortunately it changed through a very unlikeable man. I say unlikeable in my terms, as Harry liked the man very much.

This dramatic incident in my life was in some way forewarned by Harry. He woke up this morning in a very bad mood and informed me of something strange that happened to him today in his life with the Dursleys. He told me he was sent a letter, a strange heavy letter with emerald ink, the first letter that had ever been sent to him. He went on to say that when his relatives saw it they had a strange, panicked reaction, snatched it from him and burned it.

Now, when he told me about ruining his cousin's trip to the zoo, that was a good story. With this incident however, it seemed to me like he was making a whole lot of fuss about nothing. So what if he didn't get some silly old letter. It was only after the visit tonight that I saw the connection.

This evening there was a knock on the door to our room. The occasion for this interruption, was to introduce me to a man, a very odd man.

He was odd in a number of different ways. Mainly, it was because he was wearing the most hideous suit I've ever seen. It was made from some expensive looking velvety material, but it was the colour of plums, and its collar and lining were all at strange, jaunty angles.

"Nice suit sir," Harry commented offhandedly with an impressed grin as he joined us in our room, no doubt summoned here by one of the orphanage staff. He was clearly more impressed with the boldness of the man for wearing it rather than of the actual assault on the eyes that the suit was.

Immediately after he said it he snapped his mouth shut, realising that his comment could have been taken as rude. Luckily the strange man just gave a smile and a gracious "thank you" in return, taking it as a complement. At that Harry was won over. I could see it by the way he held himself to the appreciative look in those green eyes of his.

I don't take to people so easily. I still had no idea what this man was here for, or why he was interested in us, but I had my suspicions.

He introduced himself as Professor Dumbledore and went to shake our hands. Harry accepted his handshake with friendly ease. His trustfulness always astounds me.

I was convinced I knew why this man was here. He was some kind of doctor. One of the little tattle-tails at the orphanage had convinced them to analyse us. I was fine. I could deal with whatever these 'doctors' could throw at me, but even I thought harry was slightly mad. They'd lock him up for sure, and considering how friendly he was being I half expected him to blurt out his whole double life issue to the man right there and then.

I soon found out that I couldn't have been more wrong. Either he deserved to be in a mental hospital himself or all the questions that had been building up inside of me my whole life had been answered.

Harry just sat there dumbfounded at the man's revelation of magic and wizardry. I however, demanded proof, and what a proof he gave! This is important, so I will record it in detail. He reached into one of the strange zigzagged pockets in his suit, and from it he drew a wooden, stick. A wand, he called it. I'm no fool, I've read fairy tales and folklore of witches and sorcerers wielding wands which were objects of power with which they did magic. It seems there was truth melded in with the nonsense as with a few flicks of his wand (a flick upwards, a clockwise circle and another flick down to be exact) our room's wardrobe caught fire; the whole of it all at once, spontaneously bursting aflame. I have got to get myself one of them!

While the display of power was impressive, I wasn't too enthusiastic at this show. You see, I don't have many possessions, many things to call my own. I have this small diary which I record all the interesting happenings in my life so when I am older and powerful I can look back and get justice on all the foolish people who have dared to insult me (incidentally, in the back of this diary I have already started on a list of people and the possible appropriate punishments I could inflict on them). I also have a meagre amount of clothing, some school books and, hidden away out of Harry's disapproving sight, a little box of trinkets. It makes sense really; while I have my diary to record where future acts of revenge are needed I have a little collection of items to show my past triumphs. Apparently, the professor didn't see them that way.

His knowledge of my little box of trophies was much more astounding than the display of fire and levitation. Anyway, the display was downright humiliating, from Harry's exclamation of "So that's where my pencil went!" to the professor's condescending demand of my collection's return. Only a few minutes into meeting the man and I already was starting to loath him. Thankfully though, the fire he caused didn't leave any damage.

He went on to explain about his offer of a place at the school he worked at, Hogwarts he called it, a school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was all I could have ever dreamed of. He even mentioned that there was a fund for students who couldn't afford the school supplies. When mentioning the supplies we needed he took out a piece of paper, some thick, heavy paper with green ink to be exact. That explained what Harry's letter was.

I didn't have time to dwell over Harry, his other life, and all of his troubles. I realised that all that I was being told meant that a whole new world was opening up to me, and my issues always take priority. I took the money right away, though by Harry's disapproving look he most likely would have described my action as snatched. There was, so the obnoxious professor said, a whole wizarding community filled with shops and cafes and schools and most of it was within my grasp, right here in London – right under my nose the whole time!

I outright refused the professor's offer of accompanying me to by my school's supplies. I don't want someone like him breathing down my neck as I explore this world that is my birth right. As soon as I refused him though, explaining to him how I am perfectly capable of going shopping on my own thank you very much, I considered how helpful he would be as a source of information. That led me to go on to volunteer Harry as a needy helpless idiot in need of his assistance. I think my exact words were "Harry though, he can't find his own glasses when they are sitting on his nose. He would love to have a guide to get his school gear."

At that Harry shot me an annoyed look, but at the professors prompting replied that he would take up the professor's offer.

"Sure," he said glaring at me, "it'd be great to go with someone who actually waits for me to buy stuff, rather than running off the moment he is ready to leave." What can I say, it's not my fault he is so slow and indecisive when it comes to shopping.

So that was that. The professor left with instructions on where to find this 'Diagon Alley' which was apparently the place to go, and with a promise to come back in a week's time to escort Harry there.

"What are you plotting?" Harry questioned as soon as the professor was out the door. Ah, he knew me so well. With a determined grin on my face I sat there scheming, considering the optimal way of finding out about this new world, and how after I gathered information about it, I would go about making the most use out of it.

I then took out my diary from the wardrobe and, turning to the back page added in a neat script the name 'Professor Dumbledore' to my little list. That professor who humiliated me today I thought, reminded by the opened box still sat on my bed; I will have a whole seven years of school to learn, study, and figure out a way to repay him for the rudeness he showed me today. Revenge against that haughty old fool would be so sweet.

Tonight, my life has changed. I am determined to do great things with this ability I now know as magic, and one day, I will have my vengeance and make sure that the entire wizarding world knows and respects my name.

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><p>Hope you enjoyed this chapter - it's always harder to do scenes which have a counterpart in the books.<br>Coming up next will be Diagon alley!


	9. Chapter 9

I had a week to prepare for the professor's next visit. A week to compile all the questions I wanted Harry to ask. To find out these questions, I needed to do some research. The morning after I was told about magic I went to the Leaky Cauldron. It was a bit of a disappointment to be honest, the entrance to such a wonderful place a dreary pub.

I had to wander to the bar and asked the stooped man with the lopsided smile who dared to have the same name as me to let me through. Thankfully the street he opened for me more than made up for the humiliation of having to ask to be let in. Simply put, it was magical.

First things first, I went to find books. I had to huddle in the corner of the book shop Flourish and Blotts to hide the fact I was using the place as a library rather than a shop. I picked up old newspapers in the street and read them cover to cover, taking them back to the orphanage to show Harry the incredible moving pictures. I stood by the ice cream parlour pretending to read the poster on the side of the wall while listening to the wizards and witches talk about their lives to see what kind of things they discussed and to pin point their values. Other than hearing a lot about wizards who seemed to be more famous for their enchanting smiles than wand skills, and how the latest sports team was doing (in the wizarding world the main sport seems to be played on broomsticks, it seems a rather silly and pointless way to use magic if you ask me, but Harry was absolutely taken with the idea when I reported back to him), I did manage to collect a few useful scraps of information.

The most important bit of knowledge I collected was about blood. It appears that 'pure' blood is very esteemed in the wizarding world. I was raised in, what they would call a 'muggle', orphanage. I knew I would have to downplay that aspect of my identity when I got to this Hogwarts if I was to achieve my aims.

I was planning to wait until Harry's trip to buy his school supplies before I purchased mine so I could use the professor's knowledge to make sure I went in the best shops. Unfortunately, by my third trip to the Alley in so many days I was finding it more and more degrading to have to ask to be let in, so, as there was only one wand shop I could see anyhow I decided to buy a wand.

They are incredible things wands, even the stupidest looking tramp in the wizarding world could levitate object and set them aflame with one of them in their hands. If only I had one years ago!

The wand shop, 'Olivander's' was a dark dreary place which smelt of dust, polish, and had a strange heaviness to it I would come to associate with a large amount of magic in one place. He measured me up and down with a tape, handed me a few boxes and snatched them away again after I barely touched them. It took a while, but I knew it the moment it was given to me. It was in a box with another wand of Holly, and was made of a smooth yew wood. It was like it was made just for me.

"A phoenix feather is at its core", the shopkeeper pointed out. I wasn't sure if he was serious or not, and added the question of whether phoenixes are real to my ever growing list.

The first few trips I went alone, refusing to have Harry drag me down. He constantly whined about his other life where his uncle was getting gradually more paranoid and excessive about hiding the existence of Hogwarts from him, which became a bit of a bore after a while. His delusions were quite accurate though. To my surprise I learnt that post was delivered in this world by he stalked me all the way to the alley, I gave in and showed him around. I liked how he looked to me for knowledge, though it was a pain having to quickly correct him a few times from saying something which would point him out immediately as a muggle born, such as when he remarked on one of the robes shops and called them dresses. I was quite proud of myself for adapting so fast, and Harry's impressed look at all the information I collected only served to spur me on to find out more.

His main interests were the quidditch broom shop and the pet shop, though he was quite disappointed by the fact that they only sold usual animals like cats, toads and owls… well, usual animals for wizards at least. To my fascination they also sold some snakes. They whispered to me through hisses as I walked past. There was a small snake in one of the far cages, it was a breed I'd never heard of before and it was suffering, Harry, being the emotional sod that he is stopped and talked to it. It was likely the usual complaint that the snake was hungry - they never seem to think much further than their stomachs and warmth. This time though I got a surprise. The surprise was the snake's reactions. When Harry whispered back to it, it and all the others in the cages around turned in unison to him in shock. It was there that I learnt that speaking to snakes was not the norm even in a world of magic.

Honestly I was a little frustrated that Harry made the discovery of the rarity of our ability, so I decided to one up him. I told him the fact I'd heard from a haughty looking couple with platinum blond hair, looking for white peacocks would you believe it, that the place to find the real peculiar and magical creatures wasn't here, on the main street, but down a place called knockturn Alley.

In retrospect, I should have kept my mouth shut. The night before I'd told Harry how dragons are real, and I saw the spark of adventure light up in his eyes.

"But Knockturn Alley is generally thought of as a dangerous place" I said warily backtracking to try to stem the enthusiasm I saw in him.

"If we want to go there we should research it first and come up with a plan" I said quickly, but it was no use. Harry had already started moving, and I raced after him. I didn't follow Harry into Knockturn Alley because of any foolish test of courage or thirst for adventure. Nor was my main motivation to follow him stem out of concern for his safety, I knew that going after him would put me at risk too, and I don't really have the heart to be concerned much for someone else when I'm scared for my own security. I don't really know why I followed, maybe because I hated the idea that Harry would learn something about magic and this world that I didn't know, maybe it was simply because I trusted him. If so, I was soon disillusioned by the folly of trust.

We exited Knockturn Alley with our money, pride, and, for some reason I have yet to figure out, our right socks gone.

Harry is an utter MORON.

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><p>Sorry it took me longer than usual to write this! Hope you enjoy it.<br>Poor Harry can't go anywhere without trouble finding him.

Next time: Harry learns about Voldemort


	10. Chapter 10

"My parents were murdered." That's the phrase I was greeted with by an agitated Harry when I awoke.

"This giant called Hagrid came to the hut in the sea – the one my uncle took us to. What's with the blank look, I told you about it yesterday!" Harry said frustrated. What? I can't be expected to listen to all his boring delusions.

"Anyway, he knew my parent and said they were murdered by a dark wizard" Harry said rushing on.

"He said the man was called 'Voldemort' and that when he killed my parents he tried to kill me but couldn't"

"Cool name" I said. He gave me a 'that's what you focus on, really?' look, and swiftly carried on. On hindsight, maybe I know him a little too well if I can interpret a silent sentence out of one frustrated glance.

"This Hagrid guy was odd, but really nice, he gave me cake and yelled at my relatives and gave Dudley a pigs tail."

"And then he told me about this dark wizard. So after he failed to kill me I was left with this scar and he was defeated and there was a huge celebration, and now I am famous throughout the wizarding world!"

OK, OK, hold it. What? Parent's murdered, evil wizard, Dudley as a pig, they I could understand. Harry being famous – ludicrous!

"Uh, Harry, I'm sorry to say this, but that is a load of nonsense" I said bluntly. "I've been collecting information for days and have heard the names of every wizard who is considered famous a hundred times over. No one has mentioned you. That professor didn't mention anything about it either." I added.

He seemed to withdraw within himself at my harsh rebuttal of his obvious insanity, but then, after giving it some thought said "But I have the scar."

It was true. One of the defining physical features of my roommate other than his bright green eyes, pasty, stunted look, untameable hair and crumbling spectacles was a cool jagged scar on his forehead shaped like a bolt of lightning.

"You got that from the car crash" I answered dubiously.

"My parents had magic. Do you really think they'd die from a car crash?" Harry countered.

He had a point. That did sound unlikely with the more I was hearing about magic. But so did the explanation of an evil dark wizard with the cool name killing them, and we were just going by his delusions for the information that his parents were magical anyway. It did, however, give a suggestion for why someone would have such a grudge against Harry that they might put such a strange curse on him.

"OK" I said to him slowly"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I will do some research and try to find out if there really was a wizard called Voldemort."

With that concession, Harry gave me a brilliant smile, a grateful pat on the back and his portion of porridge at breakfast. He was lucky I'd do anything for him at all after the fiasco at Knockturn Alley, but he did do his best to make up for it, and payment of food and gratitude is quite nice sometimes.

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><p>The next day was the day we'd been waiting for. The day where Harry would go to Diagon Alley with Professor Dumbledore and subtly ask my 3 pages full of questions - it was an edited list as I was keeping in mind Harry's abysmal ability of getting answers out of people.<p>

The professor arrived promptly, and in a suit that rivalled his previous on – it was red with lime green polka dots. As soon as I saw him and his clothes I was immediately hit with a wave of relief that I refused to go with them.

Well, I say that I refused to go with them, but I did follow behind them. I wasn't about to let Harry get the answers to my questions and then see a flying broomstick and immediately forget the bit of knowledge he had just gained.

They walked into the Leaky Cauldron where the professor changed his hideous suit into an equally hideous robe, and got a bit distracted with talking to people. He seemed to be quite well known and popular here, but no one was clambering to shake Harry's hand when they heard his name. Next they went into the Alley and Harry asked if he could get most of his stuff second hand so they travelled round a few of the shops I'd avoided earlier as Harry slipped in a few of my questions here and there, "How does the money here relate to muggle money?", "Where exactly is Hogwarts?", "When will I get to learn how to fly on a broomstick?", ok, so the last question he asked wasn't one of mine.

Unfortunatelly, it didn't take long for Dumbledore to notice Harry's constant glancing down before he asked questions, and he discovered the list.

Harry pulled it out and showed it to him sheepishly when it was requested, and turned a bit pale, thinking he'd get into trouble. He has a thing about thinking it's not alright to ask questions you see, some reaction he got from his foul relatives.

I would have held the list out with my head held high, like it was natural for someone to carry around a huge list of questions, and anyone who was going to say otherwise would get one of my well-practised glares and would have shut their mouths up and scuttled past cowed.

Fortunately, Harry's odd, subdued reaction only led the professor to take him to the ice cream parlour, treat him to something, and make his way through the list. Now, I say fortunately, but it certainly wasn't ideal. Some of the questions I wrote I instructed Harry only to ask in the right kind of atmosphere and situation, such as "What's the difference from the 'dark arts' and other kind of magic?", "Can dark magic give you physical scars?" and "I can speak to snakes, it's not usual right, what kind of associations does it have?"

You could see on the professor's face when he reached those questions, his eyebrows furrowed, his smile looked forced, and he gave Harry a suspicious glance. Harry really wasn't making thing easier for himself, as he just nodded along when Dumbledore repeated those questions to him, digging into his ice-cream and acting as if questions about mutilation, darkness and snakes was usual for him. It was painful to watch.

Despite the professor's obvious suspicion, he still answered the questions. He said how dark magic is magic which is restricted because of its harmful and often addictive nature. Asked, "What do you mean?" to the second question while peering curiously at the scar on Harry's forehead, though Harry didn't indicate that he was talking about any specific scars. Next he mentioned that the ability of speaking to snakes is called parseltongue and is associated with a wizard called Slytherin.

I'd heard the name of Slytherin before, I was sure of it, but I couldn't quite place it.

With that and a few other more innocent questions asked (apparently phoenixes, unicorns, centaurs and werewolf's do all exist), they returned to shopping.

When they completed all the other shopping Dumbledore headed to Olivanders, the wand shop. At that Harry quickly stopped him.

"It's ok sir, I already have a wand" he said hurriedly. The professor gave him another assessing look, but nodded, and at that they headed back to the orphanage.

Wands are one of the most expensive items on the school supplies list. After losing some of my money on the trip down Knockturn Alley I was furious to find that, though I didn't take all the money along with me that day, I still didn't have enough to buy all my school supplies. Harry insisted on making it up to me, and instead of getting an Olivanders wand, got one in a small antiques shop for less than half the price. A bargain, he said.

Because of that and Harry being so frugal today, I should still have enough to buy all my school supplies too. Harry said I should ask the professor for more money, but when I told him that he should be the one to ask he decided that just buying cheaply was the way to go. Pride is a hard thing to let go of for both of us it seems.

As I walked past Olivanders to leave the Alley, I caught sight of the box that I got my wand from, with only the Holly wand now sat in it. I had a strange feeling that it looked wrong still sitting there without an owner, but I quickly dismissed the feeling and hurried to follow after Harry. I wanted to take a shortcut and make it back first, so couldn't hang around too much.

Today was a pretty good day overall, Harry got his school supplies and that night we poured over the books together. Lots of my questions were answered and Harry had stopped obsessing over his other life and was having fun chatting to me about magic and what Hogwarts would be like.

Somehow though, that evening after Harry was asleep I lay in the dark wide awake and my mind went back, past all the good times and thought about Harry's words that morning, 'They had magic. Do you really think they'd die from a car crash?' I couldn't help but think of my mother, would a witch really die in childbirth? I suppose the likely hood that my mother was a witch was next to nothing, just a poor, sick, ordinary woman. No one special, giving birth to a boy who no one had any hopes or ambitions for.

But maybe, maybe like Harry said, despite her being weak, and ordinary, and magic-less she may have loved me, and to love me, as it has been implied all my life, would be her doing the impossible.

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><p>Hope you enjoyed the chapter!<p>

Next they (finally) will get to HOGWARTS! Yup, things are happening ;)  
>Please review, it makes me ridiculously happy when you do, (plus it's my birthday...)<br>Look forward to the next chapter - I will see you then.


	11. Chapter 11

Today is the day! Today I leave this rotten old orphanage behind and go to Hogwarts.

I had my bags packed a week ago. Harry is still rushing around, making sure he's got everything on the morning that we leave - typical.

After Harry got everything sorted we got handed a brown paper bag each with lunch in, and were waved off by the orphanage staff. Harry thought it was really nice of them. I knew it was because they were glad to be rid of us and to not have to pay for any of our meals or lodgings for the majority of the year.

I made sure we got to the station with plenty of time to spare, our next hurdle was finding the platform. We found platform 9 and found platform 10. Three quarters of the way between the two was nothing but a brick wall. This must have been a trick. I should have known that that blasted professor would trick us and give us dodgy instructions. I could tell he was suspicious about us, he probably wanted to keep his precious school to himself and – WHAT!

I saw Harry line and start to charge towards the wall.

"Stop!" I yelled.

"What's wrong?" He asked me stopping in his tracks. The gall of him!

"So you _want_ me to let you run straight into a brick wall?" I asked confused.

"It's the entrance to the platform" Harry replied "I asked someone in my other life, and they showed me that you just have to run through here. She said it was best to run at it if you're nervous"

"It's true!" he went on at my sceptical look "It worked when I did it then."

"Yeah." I replied "It worked in your delusion where everyone thinks you're famous and the professor we met is actually the headmaster. You're other life has gotten things wrong before."

Harry turned to the large brick wall looking much less assured than before. Then he shrugged his shoulders, told me it's worth a try and stepped back to get a decent run up.

I scuttled a few meters away from him so I could pretend I wasn't acquainted with him when he crashed and caused a scene.

He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and ran at the wall. I knew having a run up would just make it more painful if he did run straight into the wall instead of passing through it, and closed my eyes as he was about to reach it. Then nothing, I heard no cry of pain or crash and bang of his possessions scattering over the floor. He did it!

Now, all I had to do was to have a bit of faith and follow him. If he can do it, I certainly can. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, walked to the wall, then walked a bit further. I didn't feel anything, then I risked opening one eye, and the sight was incredible.

There was a bright red train with the words "Hogwarts Express" proudly displayed on it. We were still quite early, but there were lots of people here already. Parents giving lectures and farewells, people appearing and disappearing with a sharp pop, people in robes and muggle clothes mixed. Some of the people in regular clothes were staring around with a gormless expression of their faces which made me immediately try and get over my awe and find Harry. I didn't want people thinking that I was some ordinary muggleborn who knew nothing too.

Harry, as I should have expected, was already chatting to some random stranger. It was a girl, around our age, holding a broomstick which by Harry's envious look and her proud stance was obviously the topic of their conversation.

I went over and dragged him away, hoping to spare him from getting an obsession with that strange sport.

"Tom! This is Minerva Mc-" He started as I grabbed his arm.

"A pleasure" I said politely to the young lady, giving her a charming smile as I twisted Harry's arm to manoeuvre him away from her.

"Harry!" I hissed at him as I dragged him over to into a corner "Remember the plan. We need to find a good place to position ourselves and gather more information."

"We could just, you know, talk to people?" He tentatively suggested.

"Right, brilliant idea" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "So what useful information did you learn from miss Minerva?"

"Uh, I learnt which Quidditch team she supports?" Harry said.

"My point exactly" I replied. "Let's go onto the train and get a seat in a compartment facing the platform. There we can observe people and listen to their conversations. No one ever tells you anything useful if they know you are listening."

We did just that, and heard all sorts of things, most of which was cheesy tearful goodbyes and whines of children complaining about not having finished summer homework.

After a while I turned to Harry who had a lost, longing expression as he looked out onto all the families on the platform. That look irritated me, so I decided to change tactics and squeeze some information out of him to get his mind off whatever was making him so miserable. After all, if he knew where the platform was maybe his delusions could have some use.

One simple question about what happened today in his other life and I was bombarded with a horde of information. He had obviously been holding back telling me things about his delusions because he knew I still half thought he was crazy. He said how Hogwarts was a huge magical castle, and chattered on about the amazing food, most importantly though, he told me more about the house system.

To my annoyance he decided to sing me the sorting hat's song rather than just dictate it, but the information it contained was fascinating.

He grinned at me after telling me it and said "you are definitely a Slytherin".Cunning, and a person who uses any means to get what they want. Harry was such a flatterer.

"Can you guess what house I was sorted into?" Harry asked mischievously.

That was a hard question, and it was kind of infuriating how all of the options were so complimentary; brave, kind, cleaver or cunning. He must have read my expression because he then made it easier for me to decide by explaining the unofficial negative traits of each house that he learnt from the students; Slytherins as ruthless and deceiving, Ravenclaws as know it alls, hufflepuffs as being the left overs and Gryffindors as rash yet brilliant.

That description made it much easier to determine Harry's house, not least because of the obvious bias.

Harry didn't seem to be bothered that we probably wouldn't be in the same house as each other, but before I could analyse his house choice more we were rudely interrupted.

"Are you guessin' what house you'll be in?" Said an unknown voice from behind the compartment door. Then the door swung open and a face peered in "mind if I join ya'?"

It was a small girl with short brown hair, pale skin and large features which made her look constantly surprised.

"Not at all, come in." Harry said before I could think of a reason to refuse her, so in she came and sat next to Harry, swinging her legs back and forth with annoying that, the rest of the journey was taken up by her infuriating constant chatter. I had never heard anyone say so much about so little before. Halfway through the journey an elderly woman opened the compartment door and asked if we wanted snacks. The girl, Margaret Dobbs, bought some colourful cakes and chocolates which smelt delicious. Our little brown bag of slightly squished ham and cheese sandwiches didn't seem like much of a treat in comparison, which only made me dislike the rich brat more.

The only useful information I got out of her was that she was a half-blood and wanted to be in Ravenclaw like her mother was. Looking at her loud mouth and apparently empty head I soon concluded her hopes of that happening were slim to none. She didn't seem to appreciate my input when I told her that though.

When the train arrived we, as first years, were split from the rest of the students and taken to a harbour of small boats. In the crowd we got split apart from the Dobbs girl, mainly due to her 'tripping' into another group of students and then me dragging Harry in the opposite direction. Magic is so useful.

We got into a boat with another two boys. They were clearly from wizarding families as they were chatting about a new broomstick design. I was distracted from analysing our fellow students when I saw the glare Harry was shooting at me.

"Come on, Dobbs was a pain. You can't tell me you wanted to spend more time with her, I saw you zoning out in the train ride." I argued quietly, not wanting the other boys to hear our disagreement.

"But you shouldn't have said she wouldn't get into Ravenclaw" Harry said frustrated, "That was uncalled for, and not necessarily true"

I let out a small, sceptical laugh at that, which only made him angrier.

"It's not all based on your personality you know." Harry hissed "If you ask to be in a certain house, the sorting hat will listen to you."

I was surprised by that bit of information, yet when we had our first glimpse of the castle all my thoughts of Harry's anger and our annoying traveling companion were blown away by the sight in front of me. It was magnificent. I was comforted to see that even the people who grew up in the wizarding world looked just as bowled over by the sight of Hogwarts as I was.

It was only when we reached the shore and walked up to the gates that I let myself process what Harry told me. There may be a way to choose which house you get sorted into. It would be useful having someone I know and trust around when settling into this new place, so it would be better if Harry and I were in the same house. If what he said was true then maybe I could choose to be in Gryffindor house with Harry.

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><p>Hope you enjoy the chapter.<br>Next will be the sorting and some other characters will probably be introduced!  
>What house(s) do you think they will be in?<br>Please review and look forward to the next chapter.


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